


Christmas is for Everyone

by brightwhiteparabolas



Series: Alfred Pennyworth's Bookmarks (All Rights Reserved by the T. and M. Wayne Foundation) [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animals, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Costumes, Crazy Harleen Quinzel, Damian Wayne is a Brat, Damian Wayne-centric, Doctors & Physicians, Fun, Gen, Hospitals, Meddling Kids, Minor Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pets, Police, Reindeer, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightwhiteparabolas/pseuds/brightwhiteparabolas
Summary: Damian does not care that Gotham People has just published a widely-read hit piece on Wayne Manor's animal menagerie.   Damian knows that hyenas cannot be abandoned on Christmas, no matter who loves them.
Relationships: Harleen Quinzel & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Alfred Pennyworth's Bookmarks (All Rights Reserved by the T. and M. Wayne Foundation) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557265
Comments: 9
Kudos: 98





	Christmas is for Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> Alfred says: I do not recommend reading the sample of nonsense that follows if you have any attachment to a film called Suicide Squad that was made in 2016. This ill-advised piece of writing contains several digs at it, subtle and not so subtle. The Wayne Foundation has no comment on the matter.
> 
> parabolas says: This ill-advised piece of writing puzzles me. I wanted it to be shorter and free of horrible people, and it did not co-operate, but darn it, people, I hope you still laugh. And no-one uses the 'f' word throughout, which for me is a real fu- er, achievement.

**1**

The big, very blue eyes swam with tears.

“You can’t put me in jail over Christmas,” she said to Superboy.“My babies will starve.”

“You have kids?” asked Jonathan Samuel Lane Kent.He had always assumed, correctly, that Harley and the Joker hated anything to do with children.

“My babies.My pets.My two hyenas.”

“Superboy, make a note of her address.”

He and Damian had been roped in to support _Christmas Cheer_ , Jim Gordon’s holiday season risk mitigation operation.Last year, despite Batman’s warnings, Christmas had been such a disaster that the President had allocated national emergency funds to Gotham’s clean-up efforts.Regular, if largely harmless, explosions had disrupted busy shopping areas, and businesses within a ten-mile radius of the city had refused to stock or dispose of pine trees due to eco-terrorist threats.

A brainstorm with Batman resulted in the GCPD’s decision to round up all potential perps on even the most minor pretext during the run-up to the holidays.Traffic infractions, pending tax payments and failure to appear at dental appointments would all be deemed sufficient reason for immediate arrest.It wouldn’t be easy.Two-Face Dent was one of the most astute legal minds in the tri-state area, and the Joker was so well-networked that attempting anything against him could backfire badly.Luckily, he was out of the country at a bitcoin strategy conference in Santa Prisca that ran through the New Year.

Harley Quinn was one of the last targets to be apprehended.She was now a third-year resident, and her work schedule was so demanding that it left her hardly any time for getting into trouble.Her taxes were paid, her teeth were beautiful, and even her co-op membership was up to date.Besides, the last time anyone had tried to slap her with a subpoena, she and Mr. J. had successfully sued the GCPD for re-traumatizing her.

By a stroke of good luck, a bored Damian, swinging off some cabling in central Gotham, had caught her sliding past a stop sign shortly after midnight on her way back from the hospital where she worked.

As Jon took out the handcuffs, Damian was already worrying about the hyenas.They had not done anything wrong, and the Joker probably kicked them when Harley was not around to look after them.

“Hyenas?Isn’t she worried about her patients?” Jon asked nobody in particular as a GCPD squad car drew up to bring things to a conclusion.

Harley threw a last, beseeching look at Damian as she scrambled into the car.

“My babies,” she said.Then the door slammed shut behind her.

**2**

“Alfred says no.”

Bruce turned from the main Bat computer to face his son.The huge screen’s display was steady, with only two amber lights that Richard Grayson was already investigating near the Botanical Gardens.It had been a quiet night so far, uneventful besides Harley’s arrest.

“But it is Christmas, Father, and the hyenas have nowhere to go.”

“We are not having two more wild animals in this house, let alone the pets of a mentally unbalanced girl who usually does exactly what the Joker tells her to do.”

“Then why is she working in that hospital?”

Damian’s green mask dangled from his fingers.He still wore his rain-spattered costume, and his boots had left smears on the floor of the Batcave.

Bruce sighed.His son’s huge and eccentric collection of pets and his own shortcomings as a parent had already been the subject of a scathing article in Gotham People, a magazine that Bruce hated and that seemed to hate him right back.

“It’s a long, complicated, story to do with how lawyers and healthcare work in this country, Damian, and you’d find it very boring.”

“She cannot be that bad.The hyenas are healthy and very well-behaved.”

It’s a big house, Bruce found himself thinking, and we’re already converting the old cold storage in the east wing for the use of Goliath, Damian’s overgrown dragon bat.It’s not as if we don’t have the space. He recalled the time Jason Todd had been inspired to use bubble bath in a narrow sewer off Newtown to stave off one of Killer Croc’s hench-reptiles.The incident had been followed by three weeks of activist vitriol that stretched Jim Gordon’s limited PR resources to near-breaking point.Gordon did not deserve another animal rights scandal.

“Just until after Christmas,” he said.“That’s all.I’ll talk to Alfred."

Damian smiled.It was a real smile, not one of the smug grins that he flashed after he had made a point or won a fight.He has a beautiful smile, Bruce thought.It changes his whole face. 

Damian crossed the floor to a small spiral staircase that led out of the Batcave and turned to look at his father. There was a hesitant look on his face.

“Does she really put tiny popping green and purple marshmallows in the Joker's coffee?”

The billionaire philanthropist otherwise known as Batman tried not to roll his eyes.

“Damian, I would have no way of knowing.You shouldn’t believe everything you read in Gotham People.”

**3**

Hyenas were highly intelligent, sociable, and misunderstood animals, Damian explained. The smaller one was the male, he told Jon.When attempting to distinguish between adult hyenas, Jon learned, it was useful to know that females had more testosterone and muscle than males and were often bigger. Jon tried not to shudder.

He could take or leave most creatures.He loved his dad’s dog Krypto and had a cautious fondness for Goliath, Damian’s huge dragon bat, but did not envy his friend’s collection of wildlife, which had now expanded to include a pair of ocelots, four Latvian pygmy reindeer, a giant sparkling six-legged mutant tortoise from the Galapagos Islands and a two-toed sloth named Barry in honor of the Flash.

One of the hyenas lay on the floor with its face between its paws, looking at Jon.He did not want to approach it, although it looked sad.That was the boy, Bud, because it was smaller.The other hyena, Lou, whined and pawed the floor.They weren’t very large animals, but they were larger than he wanted them to be and strange-looking, with their small heads, humpy backs, and bat-like ears.He wondered what happened when Harley took them out on walks.

Harley’s apartment was quite neat and boring, considering that she was the girlfriend of a high-profile psychopath.The walls were graffiti-free and there were no spiky collars or shiny hot pants to be seen anywhere.The fridge looked like it had been cleaned yesterday and was full of healthy food.Jon was disappointed. He had expected insanity and grape soda. Instead, there was a flexible wire-hung skeleton on a roller stand and a stack of medical text books on a small table in the kitchen. Fresh workout clothing was folded in a duffel bag next to the sofa, where the hyenas knew they were not allowed to sit.The girl hyena followed Damian around the apartment, sniffing his hand and growling.

“They’re hungry,” Damian said.

The boys rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, looking for hyena supplies.

“Hm,” said Damian. He pulled out a luridly colored cardboard box.“Junk food cereal.That has to be the Joker’s.” He put it in a large plastic bag that he pulled out of his utility belt, sealing the bag with a clip-tie.

“What’s clonazepam?”

“It’s probably something completely different to what it says it is on the label.Put it in another evidence bag.You never know.”

Once the hyenas were settled in a corner with food and water, the boys discussed the next steps.Jon refused to fly the hyenas back to Wayne Manor.There were few times when he did not give in to Damian’s demands, but this was one of them.The Justice League would never let him fly two hyenas across Gotham City air space with Damian on his back, and even if they did there was no way he was going to do it.Hyenas had too many germs.They would have to call Damian’s house to arrange a lift, or whatever Damian called it, a town car.

The smaller hyena called Bud yelped and shivered in the car all the way back to Wayne Manor, and the girl, Lou, growled.Her big ears went back against her head.Damian put his arms around Bud and held him close to his body. He was just scared, he told Jon.Jon was also scared.

**4**

Damian’s pygmy reindeer had been spoken for some months ago.Bruce was adamant that at least two if not all of them could help out with the delivery of presents to the less fortunate children of Gotham City.The reindeer were fully domesticated, and he paid for their upkeep after all.Christmas was not just the season of giving, it was the season of getting back.

“But Father, the reindeer are only babies.”

“Two year old reindeer are old enough to work.”

Bruce turned around from the dark mahogany bookshelf in his study where he had been looking for an old book of family photographs.

“But Father - “

“Goliath is very useful, and the tortoise is mostly asleep.Your reindeer destroyed the tennis courts over the summer.Asking them to spend the day pulling a sleigh full of presents to cheer up sick children is a small way for you to make up for that.”

“The reindeer will hate it.”

“It is less than eight hours of your time on Christmas Eve, Damian, and it is not negotiable.”

Damian looked down at the intricate navy and white patterning of the carpet under his feet, and kicked it hard, muttering something that Bruce pretended not to have heard.Bruce knew very little about Tabriz carpets, but he loved this one because his father had acquired it for his mother at an auction and his mother had loved it too.

“Don’t kick the carpet,” he said.“You might value it some day.And you’ll probably have to dress as an elf.I’m guessing they’ll get someone much bigger to be Santa.”

Damian stopped kicking the carpet.His face changed from sullen to furious.

“Then Jonathan Kent has to be an elf with me.”

**5**

Dr Thomas Elliott was direct, even at the best times.He had been known to reduce second year residents in internal medicine to tears, a fact that he was proud of, and like most orthopedic surgeons, he did not believe that psychiatry was a real discipline.He had been deemed low-risk and omitted from Jim Gordon’s _Christmas Cheer_ target list.

“This is unbelievable,” he said.“How many times do we have to tell the GCPD that our staff is out of bounds?”

“It wasn’t the GCPD,” said his boss. He looked up from the stack of malpractice insurance policies that he was reviewing. “It was those super kids who picked her up.”

Elliott removed his tiny round glasses and stared at the hospital Senior Vice President.

“Well, I need her out of jail now," he said. "I don’t care if she’s crazy or who she’s dating.She works a ninety hour week, cuts up eight people a day, and is always cheerful.That’s my idea of a perfect third-year resident.Pull some strings and get her back here. They can keep Jonathan Crane for as long as they want.”

**6**

“But Robin, I love Christmas,” said Harley.“Why would I do anything to ruin it?”

This is awkward, he thought. Nobody wanted to go anywhere near her.It seemed improbable that such a tiny, pretty person would inspire so much fear, but it was always possible that anyone who came too close to Dr. Harleen Quinzel outside the safe environment of Gotham Mercy hospital would end up dead or in expensive litigation.As usual, the Bat Family had been called on for assistance.

“The ankle tag is a precaution,” said Richard Grayson.“Besides, why do you like Christmas so much? I thought you were Jewish.”

He reached above the black eye mask to wipe the sweat from his hairline .It was much too warm in the small holding cell.It was alright for Harley, who wasn’t wearing gauntlets or a cape.

“Saying someone Jewish shouldn’t love Christmas is like saying someone who isn’t Jewish shouldn’t love bagels," she said.

Harley took a few experimental hops around the cell with her tag on, and glared at Richard.She’s not very frightening, he thought. I’d love to see her do a triple back-flip.She was terrific as a fifteen year old Olympian.

“Will this interfere with any hospital equipment?”

He shook his head.

“No.It’s medical device compatible.”

She bent down to look at it.The next thing Richard knew, a foot had slammed into his midriff with the impact of a small cement mixer.

“Just testing,” she said.“Your utility belt is a kind of device, isn’t it?Does it still work?”

Richard couldn’t breathe yet, but he already had her down on the floor and pinned by the wrists again the wall with her legs in a lock.She was very good, but Batman hadn’t trained her.

“Mr. J. says I should use my head more,” she said.She was grinning up into his face, a loose strand of blonde hair over her eyes. “But you put that tag on my ankle, so it’s your fault you got my foot instead.”

**7**

It had snowed the night before, and the boys stood on steps overlooking a long white schoolyard with flattened, uniform features.Children of different ages sauntered and kicked up lumps of sparkling powder or dodged each others’ missiles, among them Jon’s friend Cecilia van Heflin, whose mother was always trying to hire Alfred Pennyworth at pick-up time.

“How are your hyenas doing?” Jon asked Damian.

“The hyenas are bad,” said Damian. He looked as if he had barely slept.

“I thought they would get you into trouble.”

“No,” said Damian.“The hyenas are depressed.They miss Harley.They don’t want to eat and Bud won’t stop crying.It makes me want to cry too.”

“Oh,” said Jon.He wanted to be supportive, but was not sure what to say.He also wanted to talk to Cece, who was very popular and whose mother was not her fault.

“I told Richard to tell Harley that the hyenas were doing fine, but it’s not true.”Damian pushed some snow down the black metal hand-railing and watched it slide to the ground.

“Oh.”

“I tried to feed them with a baby bottle but it was no good.It’s lucky for the hyenas that Father and the Commissioner can never get any charges to stick against her or the Joker. Bud and Lou would starve to death. “

He paused.“You still get straight As in art, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Jon, who was no longer paying any attention.Cece had been hit by a snowball in the middle of her forehead and was doubled over laughing.

“Can you help me with something after school?”

“Yes,” said Jon, without hearing a thing.

**8**

Clark and Lois agreed that a Kryptonian ancestor was responsible for Jon’s artistic gifts. Clark could manage a passable sketch of his pick-up truck, Lois drew stick figures, and her father drew his gun whenever he heard the possums outside in the garbage cans just in case it was only someone pretending to be a possum.

“Today,” Damian announced, “you are making Christmas decorations.”

“Christmas decorations?”

They were in Damian’s second bedroom, the big bedroom where he sometimes kept the Batcow at night when it was very cold outside, but today only the hyenas were there. They crouched in a corner with some toys, their yellowish listless eyes looking across the room at Jon. The female, Lou, opened her mouth to snap half-heartedly at him, and he tried not to look back at her. 

“Father signed us up to be elves.Remember?”

Jon brightened up.A promise was a promise, but he had not been in the mood for doing Damian’s art homework.Painting a sleigh or discussing traditional English tree ornaments with Alfred would be better.

“First,” said Damian, “I would like to show you some concept art.”

Jon’s jaw dropped.Damian spoke at least six languages and was better at math than any of the professors at the West-Reeve Academy, but art was the only subject in which he was consistently graded a D.He just did not care.

“Gotham is a dangerous city,” Damian said.“Christmas reindeer need protective body armor and masks. To conceal their true identities.”

He flipped open a large sketch pad, and Jon’s jaw dropped again.

**9**

Richard swung the Batmobile into the snaking drive that led past the hospital’s private parking lots towards an ambulance bay at the rear of the hospital where he intended to release Harley into the arms of a waiting operating room team.They would need her to scrub in almost immediately, they had said, whatever that meant.Then he braked.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh.”

“The shiny, dark red car? It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Richard.His voice was fervent.“No.Do you know whose it is?”

“It belongs to my medical director, Thomas Elliott.Mr. J. says it’s his mid-life crisis.” She giggled.“He also said it was trashy and meretricious.I had to google ‘meretricious’”.She giggled again.

Richard looked through the window of the Batmobile, unable to take his eyes off the car.

“You got an external fixation, Robin?Oh, you won’t get that.It’s an orthopedics thing.”

Richard stepped out of the Batmobile, leaving it with its lights blinking, to take a closer look.It was almost too beautiful to touch, he thought, even if it wasn’t alarmed, which it must be.He sighed.Trashy.Yes, he had to admit to himself with a wince, Bruce would probably agree with the Joker on that one. An A-list villain would never own a car like that. Maybe a rapper would. He turned around and climbed back into the Batmobile to complete his errand.

Crouched behind the huge, shiny car, his hands over the mouths of two hyenas whose spots had disappeared completely, Damian let out a huge sigh of relief.This would not have been a good place or time for Richard to find him.

**10**

Gotham’s Commissioner of Police looked nervous.Depositions never worried him like Santa outfits did.

“You’ll be fine, Dad,” said his daughter Barbara.She turned the wheels of her chair so that she had her back to him, and smothered a smile.

They were in the corner of a huge hospital conference room, where chairs and other furniture had been cleared out of the way to make space for seasonal activities.Several medical students and a couple of first-year residents were busy wrapping presents at two long tables.It was only two days before Christmas.

“That’s Damian Wayne with the teeny reindeer in the corner,” said one of the students, keeping her voice low.

“Who?”

“Bruce Wayne’s son.The crazy kid who was in Gotham People magazine.Maybe the other kid, the scruffy one with glasses, is also related to one of the Trustees.Ugh.”

Although it was useful at times, Jon’s super-hearing never failed to make him miserable in normal social settings.

“They’re talking about us,” he said to Damian.

“People always talk about me,” said Damian. 

He continued to arrange blankets and snacks on the floor to make his charges comfortable.Their big moment would come tomorrow, and they had to be relaxed and ready for it. That included the additional two reindeer that a nearby petting farm had apparently contributed to his little herd. Settling Jim Gordon would be a more challenging task, even though the Commissioner of Police had already been reassured several times that he would not have to touch any of the animals himself.

Jon gave Damian a long, dark look from behind his glasses.He did not want to think about what Damian was planning, even if he had managed to find them a hotel near the hospital with one of those indoor water tube slides.

** 11 **

It was now Christmas Eve. Jon’s beautifully-painted sleigh was listing to one side, and it was all Jim Gordon’s fault, said Damian.The Commissioner of Police had pushed the sleigh over a large pair of surgical scissors that must have dropped out of the coat pocket of one of those student doctors. Two tiny plastic wheels had broken, and their ball bearings had scattered round the room.

For a brief, blissful moment, Jon thought they were safe.He smiled at the son of his father’s best friend.

“So we’ll put the sleigh in the middle of the room where the kids and all the important people are. We don’t need the reindeer.Commissioner Gordon can walk.”

Damian’s green eyes glared back at him.

“The reindeer are not staying in a locked room on their own,” he said. “It is Christmas Eve.”

Commissioner Gordon's face was beet red with guilt above his white Santa beard, and Barbara Gordon was no longer attempting to hide her laughter.

“There’s only one hardware shop in central Gotham that I found that’s open this morning,” her father said.He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his baggy red trousers and handed it to Barbara, who wheeled over to Damian.

“We have to send Jon,” she said to him in a low voice. “Dad won’t stay alone with those reindeer, and I’m not letting him go outside dressed like that. Those pants will fall right off without someone to help him manage them."

**12**

Over coffee, Dr. Harleen Quinzel and an OR team were studying some public relations and hospital events guidelines from Dr. Thomas Elliott. They were grouped in a shabby old break room on the third floor and had just finished the second of two knee replacement operations.It was after ten thirty a.m., and it was time to see what the Trustees and most of the medical directors were up to with Santa Claus downstairs.

“Knees, knees,” muttered their intern.“One more knee and I’m going to break the patient’s leg.”

“Did you expect to do a brain transplant in your first year?” asked Mahmud, the tall, acerbic anesthetist who was standing behind Harley.He added a fourth spoonful of sugar to his mug and crossed his legs.

Someone had crossed out ‘Wayne’ and scribbled ‘Mercy’ over the thin blue photocopied sheet.It was a well-known fact that their highly-regarded medical director had hated Bruce Wayne since their schooldays. Towards the bottom of the sheet, written out in Elliott's small, neat scribble, were instructions to avoid photographs with members of the Psychiatry department. Finally, there was an exhortation.

For God's sake, clean up after yourselves. Ensure that all medical waste and body parts are disposed of before leaving for the Christmas event, not two weeks afterwards.

"Impressive," Mahmud said, nodding. He took another sip of his coffee and shuddered.

Harley looked doubtful.

“I don’t get the last point,” she said. “Does he mean our body parts, or theirs?” She jabbed a thumb back in the direction of the OR corridor. 

The Bat Family's ankle tag was hardly visible beneath Harley’s green scrubs.She had several changes of clothing in the hospital, as she was not allowed to go home.Richard had assured her that the hyenas were being taken care of at an undisclosed location and that they were doing just fine.

**13**

The streets were white and empty.The man behind the counter at the small hardware and general goods store, which had just opened, sold Jon the parts that he needed and laughed.

“Wanna bet you’ll be my only customer until I close at two?” he asked.

The snow started to fall again as Jon headed out of the store.He would have liked to fly, but it wasn’t practical in this weather and he was too young to take an Uber on his own.Running would be the best way there and back, he and Barbara had agreed when they had conferred out of her father’s earshot.Public transport might not get him back in time, so he would need to make sure that no-one saw him accelerating to super-speed.

He scanned the empty intersection with its single, snow-burdened traffic light, and realized that he wasn’t on his own.There was someone walking up ahead of him, a presence on the opposite side of the road.It might not be safe to move yet. He raised his head.

The collar of the man’s beautiful light-colored overcoat was pulled up almost to the edge of his narrow, purplish eyes. His hands were deep inside his pockets, and Jon could hear him. He was whistling as he walked through the swirling snow. There was no mistaking that walk.

Jon was so scared that he could feel his heart beating inside his chest.I can fly away if I have to, he had to remind himself.I am the strongest boy in the world.I can produce a Class One laser now.And my dad can hear me if I shout for help. This was the man whose real name no-one knew and whom no-one could put away, not Jim Gordon and not his father, nor even Bruce Wayne.It was the Joker, and he was saying something now on his phone.

“But that’s the best thing about Christmas Eve, pumpkin,” Jon heard him say. “Of course I came back early.Ilove the city when it’s dead. There’s something so inspiring about it. I can tell myself that I’m the one who did it all."

The Joker’s long strides were taking him in the direction of City Hall Square, where Jon had been with his mom and Perry White last weekend on one of the breaks between recording her show.It had been noisy, and so crowded and slushy around the huge tree that they hadn’t managed to get close to its base to see the huge, fake, lit-up presents around it.

Damian wasn’t here, but Jon had a Super Sons kind of idea.He shivered inside his red puffer jacket, and got hold of himself.He would have to do this on his own.

**14**

There was no time to tell Jon that if there was a Boy of the Year award, he would just have won it.

“But Harley might freak out when she knows the Joker’s here.He’s bleeding, he has pine needles all over him from the City Hall Christmas tree, and the police told me he can’t remember that much."

“Don’t worry, Jon,” Bruce said.He squeezed the boy’s shoulders.“Let the police deal with anything that could happen here.Your Dad will be proud of you.”

He looked around the crowded function room, and couldn’t see Harley among the groups of happy, mingling hospital employees.Chances were she had no idea that the Joker had been involved in a freak accident involving a frozen surface and municipal property, but for now, Bruce could not assume that the GCPD had put measures in place to stop the news spreading.They might need to remove Harley from the premises while they still could, or shut down all access to whatever floor they were keeping her vile boyfriend on.Neither exercise would be much fun, and if not adeptly handled could leave _Christmas Cheer_ in public relations ruins.

It was clear that no-one had updated Santa, who was arranging presents next to a large, fake Christmas tree while trying to avoid his sleigh, his team of reindeer and Damian the elf.He should speak to Gordon as soon as possible.It would be reasonable for a senior member of the hospital’s Board of Trustees to know that a high-profile forensic patient had been brought into the building a few minutes ago and that the situation required extraordinary security measures.

Bruce walked over to the sleigh. His eyes continued to scan the room for any signs of trouble.

“Santa,” he said. “We have a problem.”

Damian sidled over to his father.The freshly-shaven sides of his head made him a particularly threatening-looking Christmas elf.

“Jon told me what happened,” he said.“I have an idea.”

What has Damian done to those reindeer, thought Bruce.I guess those must be nose bags of some kind so that he can feed them easily during the day.I can hardly see their faces, but least the red and gold paint looks festive. I suppose he wants them to look like him in those little capes and green Robin masks.

**15**

Two elves talked behind a thick, fake Christmas tree. One of them still had a couple of real pine needles stuck inside his left sneaker.

“It's better than your original idea,” said Jon. The pine needles were annoying him.“This way at least it looks like we had permission to do it. But will the rest of the plan work?”

“My ideas always work. Besides, you knocked out the Joker with a Christmas tree and made the situation worse. I am trying to help.”

“Maybe Harley likes her boyfriend better than hyenas, huh. Did you think about that?”

“Hyenas,” said Damian.He leaned forward and patted one of the reindeer, who emitted a sad, barely audible growl.Damian had forced something down his throat that morning in a baby bottle, a tiny fragment from the bottle labeled ‘clonazepam’ that Jon had removed from Harley’s kitchen cupboard.“Always hyenas.”

Jon shook his head and bent down to untie his laces. He hoped that Damian was right, but if they had to fight a crazy person, or maybe two crazy people, he wanted to do it in comfortable footwear.

**16**

The cost-effectiveness and psychological acuity of Damian's suggestion had been undeniable, and Jim Gordon had accepted it almost immediately. Bruce stood a few feet away from the small group, watching them. He had identified a path that would allow him to leave the room unnoticed and return as Batman in under fifteen seconds if Damian was wrong and the police were unable to contain the situation. 

The hyenas snuggled close to Harley and whined.Bud’s tinsel antlers were slipping and his tail wagged. His green Kevlar mask was somewhere beneath his feet.Harley was feeding him and Lou little beef sliders off a large white plastic plate, and the animals were eating them as fast as they could.She had removed two whole platters of sliders and cocktail sausages from one of the tables underneath the Trustees’ noses, and no-one had said a thing. Alcohol was useful if you were the employer of a mentally unstable surgical resident in love with a man whose hobby was performance art murder.

“Thank you for bringing my babies to see me,” she said.“I read about your giant tortoise in Gotham People.And the ocelots.I’m sure you were really good to Bud and Lou, and my best friend and I loved the picture of Barry the sloth in your conservatory.” She gave Damian a dazzling smile.

“The hyenas were very good.Your boyfriend is upstairs and under arrest.”

“It’s Christmas,” added Jon.“And Hannukah. So we thought you should know.”

“Don’t admit that he’s your boyfriend in front of a Wayne,” muttered Dr. Thomas Elliott, his mouth full of food. He had managed to grab a slider off the large white plate.“Liability issues.”

“Sort-of boyfriend,” Harley said. She was crouched on the floor now, with Lou's nose pushed into her ear. Bud was finishing a slider and licking her face at the same time. “What happened to him?”

“He fell down in City Hall Square and knocked over the Mayor’s Christmas tree,” said Damian.His face didn’t change, but Jon’s eyes were blinking.“They arrested him for tampering with city property.”

Harley's eyes narrowed to slits.

“I had to do an ER rotation,” she said.“I know about these things.Does he have concussion?”

“Yes.” said Damian

“Does he have amnesia?”

“Yes.”

Bruce held his breath, waiting for the storm to break.

Harley flashed another one of her brilliant, vacant smiles.She ran a hand over Lou’s muzzle and shrugged.

“Not my problem,” she said. “Let Neurology on the fifth floor deal with it.He won’t remember a thing for at least two days anyway, the abusive S.O.B.”

She bent to one side and continued to coo at the hyenas.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” muttered Bruce.

“I should put on an elf hat and help out with the presents,” Harley said. “Bud and Lou can also help.Can’t you, babies?”

**17**

About forty minutes later, there was a firm tap on Damian’s shoulder.

“Damian,” said Bruce.“If Jon flew the hyenas in from Wayne Manor just now, why are they wearing the same Robin costumes as the reindeer, and why are there only four reindeer left now?”

“It is Christmas, Father,” said Damian. He was holding a large mug of hot chocolate filled to the brim with tiny, popping green and red marshmallows.“Can we talk about this later?”

**Author's Note:**

> Another cracked off-the-wall fluff fic. 
> 
> If you laugh, well, at least I wrote this instead of sitting around buying things on Amazon that I couldn't afford.


End file.
